


The Cold Touch

by aihodineverlark, Flame6696



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: (Kinda) Slow Burn, Alternate Universe - College/University, F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-01 09:59:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aihodineverlark/pseuds/aihodineverlark, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flame6696/pseuds/Flame6696
Summary: Lexa Stalkhos—she's eighteen years old, a freshman at UCLA, and a star basketball player. She's not going into this looking for anything, but when you're as gay as her, you're bound to develop a crush. She falls hard and fast for Clarke Griffin, a junior, and along the way she makes some unlikely friends, shoots some very likely hoops, and maybe gets a kiss out of it.(Or, the college/basketball AU that no one asked for, but you're getting it anyway.)**The rewrite of Flame6696's kinda-popular fic**





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-vamped version of the fic by my friend, Flame6696. Thanks go to him for bringing me on as co-writer. After writing chapter 17 a few months ago (you had to notice the change in writing style), we got to talking, and realized that there was a lot missing that could—and should—have been in this fic, from shenanigans to heartfelt scenes and, god, holidays. (Don't get me started.)
> 
> So, we decided to go another round for this story. Many plans are to come, though the pace may be a bit slower than with the first draft... We hope you enjoy them. We'd love to hear what you think.
> 
> Sincerely, the co-writer.

 

**Chapter 1  
**

Lexa Stalkhos stands on the lawn of her dorm at the University of California. She breathes in the fresh college air, and can’t believe that she made it. Here, she can pursue her passion for sports and (hopefully) kick start her career in the entertainment industry—film and television, to be exact.

It feels surreal.

The adrenaline of unloading her car from the parking lot begins to ebb, and she feels hot in her long, navy skinny jeans and her blouse feels too heavy. Her feet hurt in their heels. And she still has to unpack in her room.

Lexa looks up at the big white and blue letters that spell her dorm name, and she gets her second wind.

 _Sproul Hall_.

Lexa wipes her forehead, and pulls one of her bags over her shoulder. She isn't the one for taking too much stuff, but her father talked her into taking a little more than she had previously planned. Too bad _her father_ isn’t the one carrying her stuff. As she goes to roll another suitcase across the grass in her other hand, she hears the telltale click of a clasp breaking.

And she specifically remembers packing all of her electronics in that specific suitcase. Damn.

She groans as she bends over to pick up what fell out. Nothing's broken, which is good.

When she wraps her hand around what is the case for her iPad, another hand grabs it along with hers. Lexa lifts her head to get a look at the person.

"Do you need some help there, Freshie?" the girl asks. From the ground, Lexa sees her white tennis shoes with bright green laces to match her tank top, and dark jeans that complement her dark ponytail. She smiles at Lexa.

"Yeah, a little," Lexa answers. The girl picks up Lexa's bag and throws it over her shoulder. She walks alongside Lexa as they enter the building.

"Thanks. I didn't catch your name," Lexa says.

"Octavia Blake. I'm a Sophomore. What's yours?" Octavia asks.

"Lexa Stalkhos," Lexa says.

"Wait, Stalkhos? I've been looking for you. You're my roommate. I just didn't notice you," Octavia says.

"Roommate? But, we're in two different grades?" Lexa asks, confused, as she follows Octavia through the few long, winding hallways.

"Grades don't matter here at UCLA. You're housed by that survey you took with your application. I didn't have a roommate last year. I really hoped they would get me one this year," Octavia says. “Looks like I got lucky,” she tells Lexa over her shoulder.

"Okay, awesome.” Lexa smiles. “Glad to meet you."

As Octavia reaches an already-open door, which Lexa has seen a lot in the short time she’s spent on campus, she asks, “So, you’re from Cali?”

"Yeah, from Santa Clara." A whiteboard hangs on the outside of the door. On it is Octavia’s name written in slanted block letters, and in the corner, the room number: 125.

"I’ve heard some nice things about it. San Jose, here." Octavia smirks as she reaches with her free hand for a dry-erase marker, handing it to her roommate. Lexa smiles, and writes her name below the other. She caps her name with a basketball.

"Ah, it all makes sense. Athlete?" Octavia asks, moving inside the room and dropping Lexa’s bag on the bed that sits against the wall, just inside the door.

"Yeah, I have a scholarship here. I had lots of offers, but chose here for the academics."

"Good to hear. Most athletes pick the school just based on athletics. Glad to see you have your future in mind," Octavia says.

"Well, I'm not most people,” Lexa responds.

"Good to hear,” Octavia repeats. “I hope you don’t mind I took the bunk,” she says, gesturing to the top bunk that levels out a few feet from the ceiling. Below that is a desk and a small shelf. On Lexa’s side of the room is her bed, a desk at the head of it, and the window on the far right wall.

"Yeah, that's fine,” Lexa says, wiping her forehead again.

"You can decorate your side with whatever you like,” Octavia tells her, pulling the band out of her ponytail and shaking out her long, black hair. “I'm not a stickler." She sits on the edge of Lexa’s bed, while the other girl begins to unpack.

Lexa pulls out her undergarments and stuffs them in the top drawer of the dresser. Her socks go in the second drawer, her athletic socks included. The third drawer contains her shirts, jackets, and hoodies. She puts her jeans, basketball shorts, sweatpants, and her athletic shorts in the fourth drawer. The final drawer contains all of her basketball stuff; her shooting sleeves, her knee and ankle braces, amongst other things.

Lexa walks to her desk and sets the electronic bag on top of it. She takes out her Mac Pro, iPad, and iPhone and situates them on the desk.

"Apple girl, I see," Octavia blurts out. Lexa turns her head to see Octavia playing on her Samsung.

"Samsung girl," Lexa remarks, sitting down on the desk chair.

"I don’t trust Apple, with all the hacks and stuff,” Octavia says. “Too many bells and whistles. I do have a MacBook, though.”

Lexa nods, shoving her phone in her back jeans pocket. “Nice room,” she comments. “I think it’s bigger than my room back home.”

"Well, this is one of the most sought after colleges in the country." Octavia stands. “You hungry? I was going to get a bite to eat with a friend of mine.”

"Sure.” Lexa stands up. She zips up her suitcases and slides them under her bed.

When she looks up, a blonde woman stands in the doorway.

"’Tave, you ready?" she calls out.

"Just come in, Clarke." Octavia says. The woman named Clarke walks into the room. Her outfit is classy—white jeans, a lime green sleeveless blouse, and heeled black boots. Her hair is down, and wavy.

"I was already going to,” Clarke says, and her eyes light on Lexa. “Who’s this?”

"My new roommate. Lexa," Octavia replies as Lexa walks towards Clarke. Clarke extends her hand out as a friendly gesture. She introduces herself as Clarke Griffin, a junior.

And _wow._ What an upperclass… _woman_ she is. She has a firm grip… and pretty hands. (And if Lexa could roll her eyes inside her head at her thoughts, she would.)

"Lexa Stalkhos, freshman,” she says, pulling her hand back. She and Clarke meet eyes.

"Nice to meet you. Shall we go?"

Octavia answers. “Yeah, lead the way!” She slings an arm over Clarke and pulls her out of the room, chattering away. Lexa, slightly overwhelmed, hangs back for a moment. She takes one last look at what will be her home for the next year, before walking out.

The door clicks shut behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

Lexa, Clarke, and Octavia sit at a round table inside the school's cafeteria, slowly eating their lunch. Lexa ordered a simple salad with a glass of water, while Clarke has a chicken sandwich, and Octavia a burger. Lexa wrings her hands together in her lap, surveying the room, its crowded lines and empty ones; what students want to eat and don’t. It looks so much like high school, but it’s so much bigger, and different, and grown up.

There’s still a group of guys feeding off each other’s testosterone, though, acting like total idiots. Lexa rolls her eyes.

Though Lexa doesn’t see, Clarke smiles at her. “Oh, she’s a typical Freshie, isn’t she, O?” the blonde teases.

"Um, what's that supposed to mean?" Lexa asks, snapping out of her reverie, slightly offended.

"Relax,” Clarke says, “I'm not trying to offend you. Everyone does it. You're frazzled, which is to be expected; UCLA is a big school."

Lexa nods, but still asks, "Well, wouldn't you be too?" as she takes a small forkful of her salad.

"I was. Trust me, everyone is a little taken aback at first. Just ask your roommate…" Clarke’s smile shifts to a smirk, and she juts her chin out to her friend across the table.

Octavia rolls her eyes. "Very funny, Clarke." She takes a bite of her burger, and flashes Clarke a middle finger. Lexa turns to the entrance and grins widely when she sees a familiar face walk into the cafeteria.

"Raven!" she calls out. The dark haired woman turns her attention at the sound and gives a small wave.

“You know Raven?” Octavia asks around her bite of burger.

“Yeah,” answers Lexa, “We were best friends in high school. She plays basketball too.”

“Ah,” Octavia says. “Oh, yeah, Reyes. She might have mentioned you.”

Raven makes her way over to the table and plops down in the empty seat between Clarke and Lexa. "I'd figured you would be in here, Lex,” she says upon greeting, ruffling said girl’s hair slightly. “You're always eating, yet you seem to not gain anything."

"Hey, not my fault," Lexa says, “I’ve got a killer metabolism.”

“True.” Raven pokes Lexa’s side. “You’re still so skinny though.”

Lexa laughs as her friend tickles her for a few moments, but swats her hands away. “Raven, I’m eating.”

“Okay, okay.”

The table quiets as they continue to eat, and Raven leaves to order a smoothie before coming back.

When she does, Octavia pipes up.

"So, there's this party tomorrow night. Just underclassmen, because the seniors are a bunch of pricks.” She rolls her eyes at the group of guys Lexa had been watching earlier. “It’s in Hedrick Hall, a little west of our dorm… Figured it would be a good place for Lexa here to stretch her wings.” The last part is directed at Lexa. “Maybe meet some of the guys in your classes?”

Raven snorts, but pats Lexa on the shoulder.

“What do you guys think?” Octavia asks.

"Sure. Sounds fun,” Clarke says.

"I'm down." Raven says.

"Why not? You are right about the meeting new people part," Lexa says. _Just not men._ Lexa wipes her mouth, before going over to throw her empty lunch tray away. Clarke takes her trash, and gathers Octavia’s too upon asking. She and Lexa meet over the garbage can, and their hands brush against each other as they put their trays in the bin.

"Hey, want to take a walk? I could show you some things around campus," Clarke suggests. She nudges Lexa with her hip. “You know, you being a Freshie and all.”

Lexa rolls her eyes, but isn’t annoyed. Not at _Clarke_.

"Sure," Lexa replies, biting her lip. Clarke smiles as they head back toward their table.

“Hey, guys,” Clarke announces, “I’m going to show Lexa around campus. Wanna meet back at Sproul later?”

Raven’s face breaks out into a sly smirk and she winks at Lexa. “Yeah, that’s fine,” she interjects before Octavia can say anything. “You two have fun on your… _walk_.”

“Cool,” Clarke says, grabbing Lexa’s hand and walking out of the cafeteria.

Lexa’s face burns pink as she is led away. Her brain is frazzled not with thoughts about her upcoming classes, or basketball, but of the girl that is holding her hand who she just can’t figure out yet.

Once they’re outside, Clarke drops Lexa’s hand, and the brunette visibly slumps. She catches Clarke’s eye as they begin to wind their way away from Rieber Hall, where the cafeteria is. They pass Sproul and head on by the De Neve Residential Plaza—which is really, _really_ nice—before crossing the street to the Strauss Stadium. They stop at the tennis courts, watching a tall, lanky dark-skinned girl play against her red-haired friend. The rivalry is pretty interesting to watch. There are a few people on the bleachers other than them, some caught in their own discussion or watching intently.

Clarke and Lexa lean back as they sit. Clarke turns to Lexa.

"So, you play basketball?" she asks.

"Yeah, you could say that," Lexa responds.

"Could? Everyone was stoked when you chose this program over UCONN and Kentucky, especially me,” Clarke says. “I mean, I might have heard about you."

“Oh,” is all Lexa can think to say. “You have?” She ducks her head. “Um… I came here for the academics first. Athletics is a side project.”

Oh, no, Clarke has creeped her out. _Abort_. Change the subject, change the subject—

“Ah. What’s your major?” she asks.

“Film and television,” Lexa answers.

 _Crisis averted_ , Clarke thinks with a sigh of relief. It’s still awkward for a few silent moments that are spent watching the two girls hit the tennis ball back and forth.

“What about you?” Lexa asks.

“History.”

“That sounds cool.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you like basketball,” Lexa blurts. “Just a guess. Being that you… you know.”

“I used to play,” Clarke says. “I had concussion problems though, so I had to quit.” She points to her head. “I go to every home game the women’s team has.”

"That really sucks, about playing,” Lexa says. “But, at least you are still involved with the sport."

Clarke nods, and she turns to Lexa again. "So, you're going to tell me that athletics had nothing to do with you coming here? You didn't think, just once, about playing in front of 13,000 screaming UCLA fans?"

Lexa smirks, and the tension melts away. “It might have crossed my mind,” she replies smoothly.

“And you didn’t once think about the new basketball center that was built here?”

“Oh, I _definitely_ thought about that. But it wasn’t the deciding factor or anything.”

“I see.”

“Also, UCLA has had a pretty good track record,” Lexa says. “But again, not the deciding factor.”

“Eh.” Clarke runs her hand absently over the bleacher. “I mean, our women's program has been down for a couple years. They won at the NIT last year, but it just hasn’t been the same.”

“That is true. You guys—I guess ‘ _we’_ now—haven’t made it to the NCAA tournament since 2012,” Lexa replies.

A voice startles both girls. “And we were hoping that you could help us get further than the second round one day, Lexa.”

“Coach Close,” Lexa greets. The coach comes down from her spot at the top and claps her on the shoulder. When she looks back at Clarke, the other girl is grinning.

“You put her up to it, didn’t you, Coach?” Lexa asks.

“That I did.” The woman high-fives Clarke, who winks. (Lexa thinks it’s adorable.) “And it worked. Thanks, Clarke.”

“No problem, Coach,” Clarke says. “Well, my job here is done. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay?”

“Okay,” Lexa says shyly. “I’ll see you later.”

Clarke throws Lexa another smile over her shoulder as she leaves.

"So, what do you need me for?" Lexa asks, turning back to Cori.

“Well, I wanted to see how you were settling in, first.”

“I’m good, coach,” she tells her, following as she walks down the bleacher steps carefully. “The campus is bigger than I imagined, but I’ll adjust. And I’ve made some good friends.”

“That’s great. We’re really glad to have you here,” Cori says, holding the gate open for her as they leave.

“Glad to be here,” Lexa responds. “UCLA was my top choice.”

“That’s good to hear.” The coach and her student walk along the sidewalk, crossing the street by Pauley Pavilion. The brand new stadium Clarke was talking about, the Mo Ostin Basketball Center, rises up in front of Lexa and she feels her heart begins to beat faster, excitement lighting up her eyes.

“Wow,” she breathes. She cranes her head back to look through the big windows as they get closer, and again Coach Close holds the door for her.

“I thought you’d like to see it before the season starts,” she says.

They step inside, and Lexa knows that the pictures don’t do the stadium justice.

It’s beautiful, in an athlete’s eye. In _her_ eyes.

The lobby opens on sleek, black tile with sky blue walls to the ceiling. Lining the walls are prints of some of the most famous players; there’s Anne Meyers, the woman’s representative, the well-known John Wooden, and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, all in lit frames. Beyond that a hall narrows their path.

“Elevators are over there,” points out Cori before they reach the women’s locker room. She and Lexa breeze in, and after a sitting area with bright yellow booths and cocktail tables, popping, UCLA blue lockers cause Lexa to gasp. And this is just where she’ll change.

“Come on,” ushers Coach Close before pulling Lexa along. She shows her the nutrition bar, hydrotherapy pools, film room, and on the way to the basketball court, one of the cardio rooms. As they enter, the echoing _thud, thud, thud_ of someone dribbling a ball catches their attention.

“Ah, there she is!” Close says. “Nirra!”

A dark-skinned girl dribbles down left court and makes a high jump shot to the hoop.

The ball goes in with a _thwack_.

She wears typical training gear, and Lexa catches herself watching the girl’s—Nirra’s—form. It’s good and experienced. She claps as the girl looks over at the coach and gathers her ball, ambling to where they stand.

“So this is the new one,” Nirra remarks, shaking Lexa’s hand. “Nirra Fields. Nice to meet you.”

“The same to you,” says Lexa. “Senior, right? And that shot was fantastic.”

“Yup. But you can do better?” Nirra teases, and at the expression of surprise on the freshman’s face, she laughs. “I’m kidding. But I could give you a few pointers if you wanted.”

“That would be amazing.” Lexa looks around the smooth, beige floors and deep navy bleachers, UCLA basketball logo painted on the plain, white walls. “This place is amazing.”

“I can take it from here, coach, if she doesn’t mind stopping by the showers. Give her the grand tour from a player that really knows the place.”

Coach Close nods, and chuckles. “By all means. Make her feel welcome.” She smiles at Lexa before going back into the hall.

 

* * *

With damp hair, Nirra races past Lexa, orange ball bouncing between her legs in a fancy move. She fakes out the other girl, and Lexa gives a short laugh, which brings a grin to Nirra’s face. She catches up with the older player and manages to steal the basketball, dodging and twisting on her feet to throw.

She barely blinks as she does it.

This first shot seems to fly in slow motion, and as Lexa watches it sink satisfyingly into the net, her stomach swoops with butterflies. Staring up at the hoop, watching a Bruins ball bounce back to the floor, watching Nirra chase after it, she falls in love with the game all over again.

Lexa feels, undoubtedly, like a Bruin. She’s going to enjoy the sweet, sweet feeling of winning.

It’s a louder bounce that brings her to her senses. The basketball arcs over her head, momentum sending it to the benches.

“Stalkhos! You gonna play, or what?” the senior taunts.

Oh, she’s _definitely_ going to play.

She’s gonna kick this girl’s ass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Feedback is appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

Octavia peers at her roommate in the mirror, watching her open and close the drawers of her dresser with hectic energy.

"You don't dress up often, do you?" she asks Lexa, fluffing and teasing her hair with her fingers; the dark curls come to rest at her shoulder blades. She goes back to surveying her reflection in the mirror. The tight, black long-sleeved she wears along with the color-washed teal skinny jeans accentuate her curves, and her blue hoop earrings will go well with the outfit.

The fact that the back is open is nice, too. Her brother would hate it.

“No, not really,” is Lexa’s answer, and another drawer shuts.

“Lexa,” Octavia says, turning around, “I think you’ve opened those drawers enough times for five outfit changes.” She smirks. “Believe me, I know.”

Lexa lets out a breath and laughs. “I don’t know what to wear.”

“That’s obvious.” Octavia walks over to the freshman and takes her by the arms, sitting her on her bed. “Let me handle it.”

Lexa rolls her eyes at the older girl’s eccentric behavior.

Octavia begins opening and closing drawers, and when she reaches the one that houses Lexa’s athletic stuff, she remarks, “Damn, you and Reyes are like two peas in a pod. How many braces does one girl need?”

“A lot,” Lexa says, smirking now, too. “A lot can happen on the court.”

“Hmm.” The junior begins to sift through the top drawer again. “Anyone you’re trying to impress tonight, Lexa?”

 _Clarke,_ Lexa thinks, and is surprised when Octavia turns around, looking surprised.

“What?” she asks.

Octavia shrugs. “You’re trying to impress Clarke?”

She said that out loud? She was not supposed to say that out loud…

“Um.” _Shit, shit, shit.._. “Yeah. I guess.” Lexa wrings her hands in her lap, nervous as to how her roommate will take the fact that she’s a lesbian. Or that she has a crush on her best friend. Or any of it.

“Oh,” is all Octavia says.

“I was meaning to tell you,” Lexa continues, deciding to just come out and say it. “I like girls.”

“Sexually, or romantically?” Octavia asks. She still looks… a little confused, but now the pieces are starting to come together.

“I’m a lesbian, so, both, actually.”

“Oh.” A pause. “Okay.” Another shrug, and Octavia is back to going through her clothes. “I have a friend back home who is, too, so it’s cool.”

“Cool, thanks,” Lexa replies, already feeling better. Now one person knows. Two, if you count Raven.

“And you have a crush on Clarke?” Octavia asks, and it’s clear in her voice that there’s a laugh there.

The reddening of Lexa’s cheeks when she turns around is her answer.

“Well, in that case…” She has a blue jean shirt in her hands and short, black shorts that will end up stopping upper thigh over her arm. “You’re going to want to show off those legs of yours, Stalkhos. Anyone can appreciate a good pair of calves like you have.” She tosses the outfit at Lexa, who easily catches the items and stands.

“Um, thanks?” Lexa’s eyes narrow at the compliment.

Once she is in the bathroom, she hears Octavia call, “Remember, we’re going for cute, but sexy!”

Lexa rolls her eyes again.

When she comes out, Octavia has styled her curls up into a bun, ringlets falling around her face in an elegant, though casual, way. Her eyes are dark with eyeshadow, rimmed with winged eyeliner. She sits at the desk under her bunk.

“Fancy,” she comments. “I’m more of a tom-boy myself.”

“I can tell by your wardrobe, Lex,” Octavia says, standing to drop a pair of _at least_ two-inch heels at her feet. They match the shorts and will definitely make her calves look good, she guesses.

“Wow.” Lexa picks one of them up, dangling it by one finger.

“They’re just heels,” Octavia teases, reaching to pull on one tendril of her hair, which she has down, for now. “I think you should curl this.”

Lexa’s face scrunches up.

“I could braid it for you. Maybe a half-up do?”

Again, Lexa doesn’t look impressed—still holding the heeled shoe as though it will bite her.

“I can make you look drop dead gorgeous, Lexa,” Octavia promises. “You just have to let me.”

After a moment of disinterested silence, Lexa rolls her eyes, grabs the other shoe, and relents. “Fine. But nothing too… girly.”

Octavia grins, and launches forward to quickly hug Lexa, who is surprised by the movement. “Clarke is going to _die_ when she sees you.”

Lexa laughs, stepping back.

 

* * *

 

Lexa does have to admit that the heels are not as bad as she first thought. They don’t pinch her toes as much as she thought they would, and her legs do look pretty damn hot because of them, if she does say so herself.

When Clarke and Raven knock on the door, Lexa is the one that answers it. She watches with pride as Raven wolf-whistles, mostly in the direction of her hair and shoes.

“Whistle at yourself,” Lexa says, admiring her friend in her beige halter top and white flats, a leather jacket slung over her shoulder. When she focuses on Clarke, however, her breath leaves her.

And she’s so glad she’s gay right now.

“You clean up nice,” Clarke tells her. She has one hand on her hip, which is covered by white cut-offs and a red crop top that reads, “No boyfriend, no problem” across the chest. Her legs look pretty good, too, with her black ankle boots.

“So do you,” is all Lexa says, barely able to get her motor function in check before Octavia comes up behind her, sharing a knowing look with Raven.

"Really taking advantage that Bellamy isn't going to be at this party, are we?" Clarke asks, looking at Octavia.

"Hey, I don't get to do this often,” Octavia defends, but she’s smiling at Clarke’s jab.

“Are we all ready?” Raven pipes up, smiling at the back-and-forth between her friends.

“Yes, _please_ ,” Lexa answers, laughing. She steps forward in her heels and hooks her arm through Raven’s, pulling her out into the hall. Clarke and Octavia follow, the latter making sure to shut and lock the door behind them.

The four make their way out of the building and onto the street, weaving through campus until they reach Hedrick Hall. In the lounge, Lexa expects a bubble of activity, with dancing and music and booze (what else is there to expect?)—but what she sees is maybe five people on the couches, chatting. A group of three and another of two.

No dancing. No music. No booze (not that she was _that_ excited about that part, she’s still only eighteen).

Raven peels off of Lexa. “O,” she says, “I think you might want to check the details on that party.”

Octavia looks embarrassed, fishing out her phone.

One of the people on the couch, a guy with thick, red, curly hair and glasses, turns around. He whistles.

“You must be looking for the party.”

"Um, yeah. I was told this was the place," Octavia says, not looking up from her phone screen. She's tapping out a text to the guy who told her about it—and didn't update her.

"Yeah, you'd have to excuse my friend here. She doesn't think sometimes," Raven cuts in, looking at the guy who's seated on the dark leather couch.

Octavia's phone vibrates. "I guess it got moved,” she says, ignoring Raven with a roll of her eyes. “It was supposed to be a small gathering, and got too big to be held here.” She looks up. "Come on, guys, let's go."

Before they can turn around, though, the guy gets up, abandoning his friends, who snicker and laugh at him behind their hands.

"You all going alone? No dates?" he asks Raven.

“No, no dates,” she replies coolly. “We really should get going, though.”

"Shame," says the guy. His eyes dip down. “I hope I’ll see you—”

Octavia rolls her eyes harder. If possible. "Yeah, your loss, asshole," she snaps. "Come on, _girls,_ let's go."

She turns and walks out.

"I guess that was... a compliment more than anything," Clarke says hesitantly once the door closes behind them.

"Yeah, well, it was uncomfortable," Raven replies, "He wasn't staring at _your_ boobs."

"You'd wonder why.” Octavia snorts. “Clarke does have some... good ones."

Clarke laughs. "Should I get my body positivity shirt out?"

At that, all four of them dissolve into laughter.

Raven winks. "Funny, Clarke."

The conversation reaches a lull, and the group walks around campus, quiet, until Octavia speaks up.

"I'm sorry, guys," she says, "We're officially late for the party."

"It's no biggie," Clarke replies, "I'd rather it's just us four, anyway. Let newbie here get used to our crazy. If that's what she wants." She nudges Lexa.

"We could still go out if you wanted to," Raven suggests. "Get dinner, maybe."

Lexa shakes her head; she's not hungry. And she's fine just hanging out. She's about to decline, when—

"And let her miss her first college party?" teases a voice that is unfamiliar to Lexa, but familiar to the rest.

They all turn around, and a man—well, more of a boyish man, really—has stopped behind them on the path, paper bags in both of his hands. He's lanky, has dark, floppy hair and wears a ripped leather jacket. There's not much to him besides that.

"Murphy?" Clarke asks.

The man—Murphy, Lexa assumes—winks.

" _Murphy_ ," exhales Octavia with disdain.

"Who's Murphy?" Lexa whispers to Raven.

"Oh, don't act like you're not happy to see me," Murphy says.

"Junior," whispers Raven back. "Trouble. Straight as hell."

"Oh."

"What are you doing here?" Clarke continues.

In response, Murphy raises the bags. "Refreshments," he answers simply. "For the party. I had to stop by my dorm before heading back, though, so you're in luck."

Raven has her arms crossed over her chest. “Are you always this much of a snoop?”

"No snooping about it, I knew Octavia would want to go," he says.

“Are they good refreshments?” Octavia asks.

“Hey, look, I’m offering you guys a ride,” Murphy says. “So it shouldn’t matter if they’re good or not—which, yes, they are, I’m not an idiot; I know where to buy good booze.”

“Good.” Still, Octavia narrows her eyes at him.

“I sense some hostility. Would you like to inspect the alcohol?” Murphy asks, deadpan. He swings the bags in his hands.

“No. Just take us to your car,” Octavia snaps, “And don’t spike the drinks.”

“My alcohol is clean,” Murphy says, passing the group to take the lead, “Follow me.”

 

* * *

 

They pull up to one of those one-story houses a few miles off campus, and right when Murphy hits the breaks, they can see the lights and practically feel the music through the walls.

Other than that, the neighborhood is pretty quiet.

Murphy leans back against the seat, turning to Lexa, who’s crammed in the backseat between Octavia and Raven (Clarke had called shotgun before they even got to the parking lot).

“So, Freshie,” he says, “how’s life at UCLA?”

“My name’s Lexa,” Lexa retorts.

“Okay, _Lexa_.”

“And life here is… well, life at UCLA; great, crazy, and probably the time of my life.”

“I think I’m the crazy she’s talking about,” Clarke says with a wink from her seat.

Lexa grins.

“Good to hear,” Murphy says, eyes going between the two of them skeptically.

Octavia sticks her head between the front seats. “Are we just going to sit here and chat all night, or are we going to party?”

"Partying sounds great," Clarke says, opening her door. Lexa, Raven, Octavia, and Murphy follow.

Lexa runs her hands over her shorts, which feel a little too short now.

This is not her scene. And this isn't high school anymore. Of course it all hits her now. Again.

"Nervous?"

Lexa turns around in her heels. It's Clarke, mouth turned up, and it nearly (nearly) melts the tension out of Lexa’s shoulders.

"No," she says. She doesn't _get_ nervous. She wasn't nervous before her SATs, before submitting her college applications, before _opening_ her acceptance letters.

It's just _real_ now. College life. Even though Lexa’s been living in her dorm for 24+ hours, it’s standing next to Clarke on the lawn of her first party that does it for her. Back home, her dad would be peeking through the curtains because he wanted to see the pretty girl that drove her home. Back home, she’d probably have a basketball in her hands. And back home? She probably wouldn’t have Clarke, because sure, she was good at her sport, but definitely not Clarke’s type of popular.

Her body tingles with excitement, but that might just be the chatter, or the beat of the music from inside.

"Let's go in," she says, charging ahead while Murphy, Octavia, and Raven lag behind with the drinks.

So they do.

And _this_ is what a party looks like.


End file.
